


How to Smile

by EllieCee



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 14:21:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieCee/pseuds/EllieCee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam always seems to make Zayn's demons fade away. Perceived one-sided Ziam. </p><p>Written in the style of stream of consciousness. Lots of colloquialisms. If you squint, it might sound like an American!AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Smile

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a creative writing assignment in English last year, lol. It was supposed to be reminiscent of The Catcher in the Rye. I got an A+ haha.

Monday morning, mom always screams up the stairs. I don’t know why she does that on Monday morning, which had to be the worst day of the week. She never does it Tuesday or any other day, because you can notice how much sweeter her voice sounds then. I think it’s because my step-dad is exceptionally nasty on Monday because he needs to have a smoke immediately in the morning. But he always runs out of cigarettes on Sunday night, and he doesn’t buy more. It’s because he’s a dim bulb, and I really think he’s just looking for reasons to be a douche to my mom.

I go to the bathroom, and I can hear step-dad mumbling and ranting about stupid things, and my mom just taking it. I cringe a little, because my mom doesn’t have to take that, but she does. It upsets the living hell out of me because mom doesn’t really take shit from anyone. If anyone at the grocery store or something tries to be cocky and whatnot, she’ll call them out no problem. If I dare try to start anything with her, well, forget it. But with step-dad, it’s like she melts into this little helpless puddle, and it hurts to see.

I hear step-dad say something about how it’s mom’s fault I’m such a “fag”, and I’m washing my face, so I accidentally splash soap into my eyes. And it’s stinging like crap, and I trip trying to grab for a towel. I pull myself up and I grab the towel and wipe the soap off my face. My eyes hurt like you wouldn’t believe, and I blink a few times, thinking it’s going to get rid of the sting. I look in the mirror and my eyes are red as anything. I feel angry, and my chest stings nearly as much as my eyes do, well, maybe more. I try to erase what step-dad says, because I think that it really shouldn’t bother me, and I always try to convince myself it shouldn’t, but it does. I brush my teeth and “It’s your fault he’s a fag” just rings like an annoying church bell in my head repeatedly. I look in the mirror, and I guess it’s getting to me bad, because maybe I do look like one. I always thought I had funny looking lips, they’re too puffy or whatnot for a boy.

But if anything, it’s probably my eyelashes. Girls’d probably kill for mines, and you know what, I’d gladly donate them. I really hate my eyelashes, I think they make me look like a girl. They look like the kind on those porcelain dolls, well that’s what I think. My cousin had those porcelain dolls, because she just loved them for some reason. I don’t know if she still does, but when we were little, she always had them with her. They creeped me out so bad, what made it worse were their eyelashes. She had this one that especially creeped me. The doll was white, like plain, straight out white, and it had black hair. But the worst part, I thought were her eyelashes. They were so unnaturally long, even for a porcelain doll. It made her eyes look demonic and I hated it every time my cousin decided to pull her out. So one time, I just plucked off the eyelashes and hid them under the couch. My cousin threw a hissy fit, so we had to buy her another one for her birthday.

I don’t know if it’s the dolls’ fault I hate my eyelashes. Those dolls were creepy, but I don’t think my eyelashes creep me out per se. I just think they make me look like a girl, and sometimes I’m tempted to just trim them with scissors, but I can’t picture that ending well, so I don’t. But Liam tells me he likes them. I always ask him if he’s all right in the head, because it’s one of my least favorite parts of me, and I have a lot on that list. Sometimes I think he’s just saying that because he’s my best friend. But sometimes, I like to believe he’s genuine about it, because he could be. Liam is one of the nicest people I know, dead serious. I’m not just saying that ‘cause I’m his best friend. I mean it. Even when people are being crappy, he’s rarely crappy back.

I guess that’s how we became friends in the first place. I was a really crappy kid back then, well, I kind of still am, but Liam makes me better. It’s not like I went around pushing kids and flushing their lunch money, but I just hated everyone and I told everyone off and said a lot of things not really appropriate coming from a 12-year old. One day he just kind of sat next to me and god knows how he actually ended up liking me enough to be my friend.

I probably sound like some dumb, corny love song, but I swear, Liam was an angel the heavens dropped to Earth. Jesus, I’d never say that out loud or anything, but that’s honestly what I think. I don’t know anyone like Liam, and I doubt I’d ever find anyone like him at all. My sister says “he’s not the kind of friend you can just get at a corner store”. It’s a really weird comparison, but it makes sense. He came along in my life the right time too. 

That was the time dad died, not step-dad, my real dad. The one that wasn’t yelling at mom for being stupid because she didn’t buy him cigarettes before the crack of dawn on Monday. Mom didn’t take shit from him either, and she wasn’t afraid of him or anything. He didn’t call my sisters sluts or any of that, and he wasn’t a lowlife who used his mother’s life insurance to pay for a wedding. Yeah, step-dad guilted his sister to give him their mother’s

life insurance money to pay for his and mom’s wedding. He could’ve paid for it himself, it’s just that he decides to lose $10,000 at a casino two weeks after he proposes. Mom refusesto talk about it, because it puts step-dad in a bad light. Well, I love mom to death, but she’s blinded by something, and it’s sure as hell not love.

I remember how dad died. It was so simple it actually hurts to think about because all I want to do is go back in time, because I could’ve saved his life. He was walking down the stairs at work and he slipped down a flight of steps and he died ‘cause he fell the wrong way and his neck snapped. I can’t tell you the countless times I’ve had dreams where I go back in time and pull his arm back when he starts tripping.

I hear step dad say things about me again, and this time I’m glad I’m not washing my face. I don’t think I can take any more soap in my eyes. I think about dad, real dad, again and wonder if he’d think I was a fag, or whether or not he’d care. All I know is, he won’t blame mom for whatever the hell I am.

I’m not even sure about any of that anymore. Everyone has their own thing about what I am, and according to step-dad and a good handful of my school, I was definitely gay and for some reason that made me disgusting to them. Liam doesn’t mind, or even cares, but he’s never really asked me anything concerning it, and I’m afraid for the day he does because I might tell him something that’d probably push him away. 

I remember I’m supposed to be walking to school with Liam, so I hustle to put some clothes on. I look at the clock and I’m ten minutes behind schedule, because of the damn soap. I run out, skipping breakfast as I hear mom lecture me about how it wasn’t good to skip breakfast. She screams like a maniac as I close the door, and I know she’s just in a bad mood because of step-dad. I run to Liam’s, because I know he hates being late. I already consider not stopping because he probably went ahead already. When I mean he hates being late, I mean it. He’s had perfect attendance since fifth grade, and I have no idea how he kept it up for six years. Once, he went to school with a fever and he passed out in the lunch line. God, that scared me half to death. I thought he died, and I don’t know what’d I do if Liam died on me. 

I don’t see him when I pass his house, so I keep going, then I hear someone call my name.

“Zayn!” 

I turn and I see him stumbling out of his house. Wow, for once I was earlier than him.

“Li!” I call out, “I thought you went ahead.”

“No, sorry,” he says, as he finally makes his way next to me,

“My turtle cage fell over and Boris crawled under the bed and it took me a half hour to get him to come out.”

I can’t help but laugh at it, and he just smiles back. 

“We’re going to be late,” I say, as we start walking.

“Damn turtle,” he says, chuckling. He smiles again, and my stomach feels weird. I look at him, and he looks really nice today, well to be honest, I think he looks nice all the time.

Then I hear step-dad’s voice again “It’s your fault he’s a fag,” and the word “fag” just rings all over in my skull.

“You okay?” Liam asks, putting a hand on my shoulder. 

“Yeah,” I say, attempting some kind of smile.

“Zaynie, smile,” he says, “It’s a nice day.”

He elbows me until I can’t help but laugh. It is a nice day, everything is bright and clear and the breeze feels nice.

I look at Liam and the sun’s shining on his eyes. He runs his hands through his hair, and step-dad’s voice rings in my head again. I think about how it’d be like if dad was still alive, and I think about how much he’d love Liam, because my dad liked turtles too. Liam mumbles on about his history project and something about turtle food. Step-dad’s voice still keeps ringing in my head, but now I’m ignoring it because Liam’s making me smile and maybe it really shouldn’t bother me. 

It is a nice day.


End file.
